


Define Dancing

by starbear (panda_hiiro)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dancing, M/M, Pining, Runs S1 through post-S6, Shiro is in love and he's an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 16:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_hiiro/pseuds/starbear
Summary: “Dancing?” Shiro made a small, scoffing little laugh. “You’re kidding, right?“What? No,” Lance said, “Why?”“I can’t dance.”“Lies.”“No, I’m serious,” Shiro said, “Two left feet. I’m terrible.”“That I absolutely do not believe. I bet you’ve just never really tried.” Lance stood, abruptly, an unsettlingly determined look on his face.“C’mon, let’s do it.”“Do...what?”“Dance, duh,” Lance said. “Let’s go.”Shiro learns how to dance, and falls in love along the way.





	Define Dancing

Fifteen minutes.

What that translated to in ticks and doboshes, Shiro didn’t know, but the point remained - Lance was late.

Shiro couldn’t exactly blame him - barely a month had passed since their ragtag group had taken up the mantle of defenders of the universe, and while forming a giant robot _sounded_ like a fun time, the other duties that came along with being a Voltron paladin were...less than exciting. Like watchkeeping: even Shiro had to admit he found staring at a computer console for hours on end, searching for distress signals or signs of the Galra, mind-numbingly boring. But Shiro had never been one to shirk duties, and so, when his third hail met with silence, he heaved a sigh and set out to retrieve his wayward teammate. Lance’s location was easy enough to track down - unsurprisingly, he was still in quarters. Outside his room, Shiro knocked, and got no answer; he tried the control panel and the unlocked door slid open with a quiet ‘whoosh.’

“Lance?”

Lance was there, though Shiro couldn’t quite make sense of the state he was in: headphones on, back to the door, twisting around in a hip-thrusting, semi-rhythmical movement that Shiro guessed might, maybe, on some planet, be considered dancing. Lance hadn’t noticed him yet, and for several long moments Shiro just stood frozen in the doorway, watching. A good minute passed before Lance turned, spotted Shiro, and came to a sudden, jerking halt. His eyes went wide, and when he yanked his earbuds out Shiro could just catch the faint, tinny sound of music coming from them.

“Shiro.” Lance stammered, “Uh. Hey, man. Um. What’s...up?”

“You were supposed to report to the bridge fifteen minutes ago,” Shiro said, in a calm, professional tone. “We’re on watchkeeping duty now.”

“Oh. Oh, crap, seriously? What time is it…” Lance fiddled with his phone, face paling when he saw the time displayed in bright numbers on the screen. “Oh. I’m sorry, Shiro, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot - “

“It’s okay,” Shiro said, holding a hand up to stop him, “Let’s go now, though, alright?”

“Right.” Lance nodded. “Sure.”

Lance fell into quick step beside him. He didn’t speak up until they were halfway down the corridor.

“So, uh,” Lance said, clearing his throat, “How long were you standing there, anyway?”

“From about the time you started doing that pelvic thrust thing.”  

“Oh.” Lance looked away, his cheeks coloring a bright shade of pink. “Jeez. You could’ve said something.” He looked back at Shiro, and mustered a grin. “Or did you just like watching me dance that much?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow, and ignored the flirtatious rise at the end of Lance’s comment.

“Dancing? Is that what that was?”

“Ouch.” Lance responded with nervous laughter. “That stings.”

“If you were concerned about keeping it a secret,” Shiro said, “You should’ve been on time for your shift.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance grumbled.

The bridge was quiet and empty this late on the ship’s cycle, the soft, mechanical hum of the engines the only sound carrying through the room. Shiro had checked their current coordinates earlier; they were somewhere in the Gamma quadrant, light years from the nearest Galra outpost, and when he’d relieved Coran and Pidge from their post they’d reported nothing of interest in any of the nearby star systems.

In other words, they were in for a long, boring night.

Lance dropped himself into a chair at one of the consoles, spinning around in it a few times before kicking back in a relaxed pose. Already he had one of his earbuds in again, head nodding and foot tapping in time to music Shiro couldn’t hear. He watched for a while as Lance moved to that invisible rhythm, the motions subtle but constant, and wondered if he’d ever really seen Lance still.

“What are you listening to, Lance?”

“Hm?” Lance pulled his headphones out again. “Oh. Just some stuff I had on my old phone. Pidge helped me transfer it on here.” He waved one of the slim orange communication panels that Pidge had fixed up for all of them. “It’s getting kinda old listening to the same stuff over and over, but hey, it’s better than the traditional Altean drinking songs Coran made me listen to the other day.”

“Really? I didn’t think Coran’s music was all that bad,” Shiro said. “Some of it was kind of catchy.”

“You might need to get your hearing checked.”

“Maybe,” Shiro said, laughing.

“Come here.” Lance beckoned Shiro over. “Let me help you get rid of that earworm.”

Lance shoved an earbud at him. Shiro took it, placed it against his ear, and listened for a while to the music: an unfamiliar song, with a driving beat and fast, cheerful lyrics. It sounded, he thought, like what he’d expect Lance to listen to - bright and full of motion.

“Well?” Lance looked at him, expectant. “What’d you think?”

“Not bad,” Shiro said, passing the earbud back to Lance.

“I’ll send you some tunes, if you want,” Lance said. “What kinda music did you listen to, anyway? Back home, I mean.”

“Mm, I can’t say I ever listened to much. Whatever was on the radio, I guess.”

“Dude. That’s totally boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint you?”

“No, sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Lance frowned a little. “But there must’ve been _something_ you liked to listen to. A particular song, or band, or something? When you went out dancing, what did you get your groove on to?”

“Dancing?” Shiro made a small, scoffing little laugh. “You’re kidding, right?

“What? No,” Lance said, “Why?”

“I can’t dance.”

“Lies.”

“No, I’m serious,” Shiro said, “Two left feet. I’m terrible.”

“That I absolutely do not believe. I bet you’ve just never really tried.” Lance stood, abruptly, an unsettlingly determined look on his face. “C’mon, let’s do it.”  

“Do...what?”

“Dance, duh,” Lance said. “Let’s go.”

Shiro started to protest, but Lance already had his phone in hand, tugging the earbuds out so that Shiro could hear the music. He didn’t recognize the song, something pop with a vibrant sound and a quick beat. Lance stared at him, expectantly; Shiro remained frozen in place.

“C’mon!” Lance said, “Just move!”

Shiro shook his head, and held his hands up, as if to put distance between him and the music.

“I...don’t think so.”

“It’s not that hard. You just move with the music. Like, y’know. Start with your hips.” Lance started moving, swaying in time to the beat. “Then move your feet and...toss in some fancy moves like _this_ and…”

“Lance.”

“You see what I mean? You can totally do this.”

“ _Lance_.”

“What?”

“We’re supposed to be working right now.”

“And if something happens, we’re right here,” Lance said, “You’ve gotta loosen up sometimes, Shiro. Now, come on, dance with me.”

Lance held his hand out, some bright gleam in his eyes, a casual grin on his face that Shiro had to admit was charming. It was easy to see, in moments like this, why the Blue Lion had chosen him - Lance had a certain magnetism, an affable nature all but impossible to ignore. After a long moment Shiro finally relented and let Lance take his hand.

It was the definition of a failed experiment: he stepped on Lance's feet twice, Shiro’s movements stiff and awkward in comparison to his dance partner, but - the sound of Lance’s laughter was light and carefree, his hand warm in Shiro’s own as he held Shiro's arm up and twirled beneath it. Despite himself, Shiro laughed along with him, and before he knew it, the song was over. Lance stepped back, still grinning, a little out of breath.

"Wow. You _are_ terrible."

"I told you," Shiro said.

Another song started up, this one quieter, with a slow, steady beat.

"One more?"

"If you don't mind getting your feet stepped on again, sure."

"This one's slow, you got this." Lance grabbed Shiro’s hand, guiding to his waist as he dropped his voice in some vain attempt at sounding sultry. "Come on, baby, they’re playing our song.”

“‘Baby?’”

“What?” Just a hint of a tremor faltered in Lance’s voice, as if he wasn’t sure if maybe he’d gone a step too far. “You don’t like being called ‘baby?’

“I guess I don’t mind too much,” Shiro said.

Lance relaxed at that, a soft smile crossing his face as he looped his arm around Shiro’s shoulder and guided him into a slow rhythm. Shiro was keenly aware of how ridiculous this was - two men attempting to dance to the tiny sounds of a cell phone speaker, on the bridge of a spaceship galaxies away from home. He could only imagine what the rest of the team would say if they ever found out about it, but...it was nice, doing something so silly for a change, being close to someone else. For a moment he thought Lance was going to rest his head on his shoulder, and when the song ended and Lance abruptly pulled away from him Shiro found himself strangely disappointed.

"Well...that's about all there is to it," Lance said  fiddling with his phone, avoiding Shiro's gaze. "I guess we should get to work now, huh?"

"We should, yes."

"Yeah. These star systems aren't gonna monitor themselves, right?"

Lance took a seat at the empty console, back turned towards Shiro. The set of his shoulders looked tense, and Shiro fought an inexplicable urge to reach out to him.

"Hey, Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"That was fun. Thank you."

Lance looked back at him with an openly hopeful expression.

"Really? So...try it again later?"

Shiro smiled.

"I'd like that."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was supposed to be a routine maintenance check.

Like so many things in Shiro’s life, this, too, did not go according to plan.

 _“You’re almost there,”_ Coran said, his voice small and tinny through the speaker’s in Shiro’s helmet. “ _Lance, can you see it?”_

“Yeah, I see it.” Lance frowned, hands propped on his hips. “What exactly are we supposed to be doing out here, again?”

_“Replacing the thruster system on the defense pods. Yours and Keith’s blew out in our last little skirmish, so we’ve got to fix them up.”_

“And why are _we_ doing this, instead of, oh, I don’t know, our genius mechanic? Or our tech wizard? Or, like, anyone that actually knows what they’re doing out here?”

 _“Because Hunk and I are working on actual important stuff,”_ Pidge chimed in, _“Don’t worry, Lance. It’s easy. Even you two can’t mess it up. No offense, Shiro.”_

“None taken,” Shiro said, with a sigh. “Come on, Lance. I’ve got the schematics here, it shouldn’t take us long.”

“Hnngh.” Lance grumbled and sat the tool box he’d been laden with down on the ship’s hull. “‘Important stuff.’ Like my time isn’t important too. I could be doing...well, something cooler than this, that’s for sure.”

“It’s crucial we keep the castle’s defenses up. Especially considering how close Zarkon’s been on our heels recently.”

“I know, I know. You don’t need to lecture me,” Lance said, sullenly. “Go ahead and hand me that weird looking wrench thing.”

For a time, the stretch of space around them remained blessedly silent - after hours of relentless pursuit by Galra forces, Shiro still felt keenly the exhaustion settled in his bones, a weight on his limbs he knew they all shared. He held the round defense pod still while Lance banged away at it, Lance’s occasional grunts and grumbled almost-swear words muffled through the speakers in Shiro’s helmet. He wasn’t really watching - he looked past Lance instead, past the ship, out into the debris of the asteroid belt shielding them, to the inky vastness of the surrounding firmament. Sometimes it was hard to believe he really was here, lost out in the universe, so very far away from home; sometimes it was hard to see anything else at all.

“Okay, I think I almost got it,” Lance said, twisting at some piece of machinery with labored effort, “Just gotta...turn this piece here, and... _woah!_ ”

The defense pod sputtered to life with an abrupt jerk, loosing Shiro’s grip; shooting forward, it collided directly with Lance, who let out a startled yelp as the machine dragged him with unexpected force and speed out towards the asteroid belt.

“Lance!” Shiro moved, pure instinct driving as he leapt off the hull, using his jetpack to accelerate after him. “Let go!”

“I can’t! My hand’s stuck!”

Fumbling, Lance finally managed to twist and extricate himself from the pod, freewheeling in empty space as the machine glanced off the side of a small asteroid and continued its trajectory away from them. Still drifting, Lance flailed as he tried to right himself, the panicked action only making him spin further out of control.

“Hold on!” Another burst from his jetpack, and with his arm outstretched Shiro could just barely reach Lance - he grabbed him, pulled him in, wrapping his arms tightly around Lance in a grounding embrace. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Together they drifted to a slow stop, touching down on an asteroid’s rocky surface. Lance took a few shaky, uneven breaths; Shiro made no move to let him go. After a moment Lance looked up, past Shiro, watching the distant figure of the still-accelerating defense pod.

“Well,” Lance said, finally, “There she goes.”

“Yep,” Shiro said, watching the little red unit disappear into the stars.

“At least it was Keith’s,” Lance said, and Shiro knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help a brief snicker of laughter at the matter-of-factness. Soon enough Lance joined in, both of them trembling with laughter.

“ _Hello? Hello?”_ Coran’s voice cut shrill and sharp through their speakers. _“What’s going on out there, you two? I just got an alert that you’re not on the ship!”_

“Sorry, Coran,” Shiro said, “We ran into a little...technical difficulty. We’re heading back now.”

“ _Technical difficulty? You’re supposed to be fixing the technical difficulties!”_

“I’ll get you a full report once we’re back on the castle.” Shiro cut the transmission, and breathed a sigh. He realized, abruptly, that he was still holding Lance; he stepped back to put a small bit of distance between them, and nearly lost his footing. “Ready to head back?”

“Yeah.” Lance looked out at the open space separating them from the castle, and Shiro followed his gaze; it suddenly seemed like a very long way. “Good thing we’ve got these jetpacks, huh?”

“Good thing.” Shiro paused, then extended his hand towards Lance. “You know, it’d be easier if we do this together.”

Lance grinned as he took Shiro’s hand.

“Are you asking me to dance again?”

“If you want to call it that,” Shiro said, “Sure.”

Together they jumped, off the rocky ground and into empty space, using short bursts from their jetpacks to propel them slowly, but surely, back towards the ship. For a little while they drifted in silence, until Lance said,

“Hey, Shiro. Watch this.”

“Watch what - _Lance!”_ Shiro let out a completely undignified yelp of surprise as Lance tugged at his hand, twisting as he pulled, a burst of energy from his jetpack sending them into a spiral. He gripped both of Lance’s hands tightly to keep them from separating from each other. “What are you doing?”

Lance just laughed, full of delight, and said,

“Dancing!”

Weightless, circling in a slow orbit around each other, completely untethered save for the clasping of their hands - in a way Lance was right, this was as much a dance as their last one had been. Despite the situation - floating unguarded out in uncharted space, with the ever-present shadow of the Galra still looming in his mind - an inexplicable sense of calm washed over Shiro; some part of him wished they could stay, just like this, just the two of them, aimless and full of grace in their slow drift.

“Hey,” Lance said, “Thanks for saving me back there.”

“You’d have been okay on your own,” Shiro said.

“Still. You came after me. Means a lot, man.” Lance looked up then, eyes wide behind the glass of his helmet, shimmering in the expanse of all that infinity reflected there. “You know, it’s kinda cool, right? Being out here like this. I guess I kinda started taking it for granted, but it’s amazing, isn’t it? All the stars and junk. I don’t think I ever noticed it before.”

In the midst of all that emptiness, his heart seizing with an abrupt realization, Shiro saw nothing but Lance.

“Neither did I.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro had never been afraid of the dark, before.

Outside, the glittering expanse of the white hole concealing Oriande waited, blinding brightness and heat in stark contrast to the suffocating darkness within the castle. This was the second time Shiro had waited for death stranded out in space, watching his oxygen levels dwindle into nothing, waiting on a rescue he wasn’t sure would actually come. He’d been resigned to his fate, then; now, an anxious flutter beat in his chest, sweat beading on his skin, stomach churning with a distinct wave of nausea.

His head hurt.

Beside him, Lance sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around himself - it seemed strange to see Lance still, or quiet, and yet he was both at the moment, the shadowed, melancholic expression on his face obscured by the cloistered gloom of the corridor they’d been banished to. Shiro’s fingers twitched, desperate for something, for _anything_ to do - at this point, he’d take whatever he could over sitting still and waiting for the inevitable. But the ship was dead, his Lion along with it, and the guardian of Oriande would not suffer him to pass.

So, waiting it was.

He looked up at abrupt motion beside him as Lance stood.

“Lance?” Shiro asked, “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” A beat of hesitation, and then Lance extended his hand, an act of invitation. “Hey. Dance with me.”

Shiro blinked, and just stared for a moment, trying to parse out the meaning behind the sudden statement.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dance. With me.”

“Here? Now?”

“Sure. Yeah. Why not?” Lance said. “We did it before, remember?”

“I remember,” Shiro said. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d spent that carefree moment here, swaying in time to a welcoming rhythm. “I remember I was singularly awful at it.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Lance said.

A wry smile crossed Shiro’s face.

“Your squashed toes might remember differently.”

“Oh, come on, just give it up already.” Lance huffed, and grabbed Shiro’s wrist, pulling him to his feet. He pulled Shiro close, and settled his arms around him. “There, see, now was that really so hard?”

“We don’t have any music,” Shiro said, keenly aware of their closeness, the radiant warmth of Lance’s body against his. He could smell something faintly sweet, an air of cologne mingled with something subtle and haunting that could only belong to Lance.

“That’s okay. Just imagine it.”

“We’re supposed to be conserving oxygen,” Shiro said. “We shouldn’t be moving around so much.”

“Okay,” Lance said, “Then we’ll dance slow.”

Lance moved, guiding Shiro into a slow, swaying sort of rhythm. They continued like that for a while, motions a little clumsy, but steady. This time Lance did rest his head on Shiro’s shoulder, relaxing against him with a quiet, soft sigh.

“Lance,” Shiro said, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because. I don’t know. Do I need a reason?”

“I’d just like to know.”

“I want to,” Lance said, “I thought you’d want to, too. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Shiro said, closing his arms around Lance just a little bit tighter.

“Hey, Shiro? We’re gonna be alright.”

It was almost a convincing lie.

“I know,” Shiro said. “Lance? Thanks. I’m glad I’m not alone.”  

“Yeah,” Lance said. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Then again, _this_ might have been the hardest thing Shiro had ever done.

There was something oddly surreal about being in the middle of Galra command, decked out in Altean finery, mingling amidst a crowd of dignitaries and royalty from a wide range of planets. The war was far from over, to be sure, but a formal alliance between the Voltron Coalition and the Galra Empire was certainly worth celebrating, even if a certain amount of awkward tension still lingered in the air. The party had been Lotor’s idea, and Allura had supported it whole-heartedly - so here they were, dressed to the nines, in a hall full of people and whatever the Galra deemed as passing for ‘music.’    
  
Facing the Galra on the battlefield was definitely easier than facing them on the dancefloor.  
  
The others seemed to be in various states of comfort or distress - Pidge and Hunk were raiding the, admittedly impressive, spread of food specially prepared for the reception; Coran was in deep conversation with a smattering of delegates over a glass of nunvile. Most of the Galra, to Shiro’s slight satisfaction, looked about as uncomfortable as he felt. And Lance was...  
  
Where was Lance?

The last time Shiro had seen him was when Lance had asked Allura to dance - they'd taken the floor with poise and grace, the shimmering fabric of Allura's gown swanning around them like an ephemeral cloud. It had been so long since Shiro had seen Allura in anything other than her paladin armor that he’d almost forgotten the regal bearing with which she held herself; she and Lance looked good together, sharing a natural smile and a mutual ease. Lance looked at her as if he saw nothing else in the world, as if nothing else in the universe mattered. Shiro knew that look: it was the same way he looked at Lance, when he thought no one else was watching.

For his part, Shiro had done his best to blend into the wall for the duration of the party, nursing a drink that, thankfully, tasted nothing like nunvile. It was easy to watch from there, and so it was easy to see the shadow that crossed Lance's face when the dance was over and Allura pressed a brief kiss to his cheek before leaving him. Lance stood there for a moment, looking strangely lost, but he was gone before Shiro could cross the floor towards him. He found Lance, nearly half an hour later, shuffled off to the side of the room, staring at a drink as if it held the answer to all the mysteries of the universe.  
  
"The party's out there," Shiro said, as he approached. "It's not like you to not to be in the middle of it."  
  
"Huh? Oh. Hey, Shiro." Lance managed a smile. "Yeah, good point. Guess I just needed a break."

“Mind some company, then?”

“Nah. I’d be glad for it, actually.”

They lapsed into silence for a while. Shiro finished his drink just as the music swelled into a three/quarters beat, something close to a waltz despite the alien sound. Shiro sat his empty glass aside, turned to Lance, and offered his hand with a small bow.

"May I have this dance?"  
  
Lance blinked, and stared at Shiro's hand, as if trying to make sense of the gesture.  
  
"Are you for real?"

"I am absolutely, one hundred percent, for real."  
  
A lopsided, earnest grin broke out on Lance's face, as he set his own glass aside and took Shiro's hand in his own.

"Sure, what the heck."  
  
Shiro settled a hand on Lance's hip as Lance's arms looped around his shoulders. The fabric of his clothes was smooth, thin enough that he could feel the warmth of Lance's skin radiating through it. A scent like warm vanilla lingered around him - familiar by now, sweet and inviting. Shiro felt his breath catch in his throat, and reminded himself to breathe.

"You're getting better at this," Lance said, "You haven't stepped on my feet even once."

"Well," Shiro said, "I had a good teacher."  
  
"That's true," Lance said, with a soft laugh.  
  
They lapsed into silence for a while. Shiro could feel the tension in Lance's body, could sense the sharp, direct line of Lance’s gaze past him, across the floor to where he knew Allura was.

"She looks really happy, right?" Lance said, voice low, tinged with some unnameable sense of longing. "I mean, that's good. I'm happy for her. I really am. She deserves this. More than anyone, she deserves this."

"She does," Shiro said.

"I just wish..." Lance's voice faltered at that, breaking off into a long pause. "Do you think I'd have stood a chance, if I'd told her?"

Something caught in Shiro's throat at that quiet question. He didn't know how to answer that; he didn't think he could, possibly, come up with the right thing to say.

"No, never mind, forget it," Lance said. "I'm being dumb. It doesn't matter."

"You love her," Shiro said, "That's not dumb."

Lance ducked his head, hiding his face from Shiro. An unnameable emotion swelled in Shiro's chest, a hollow, ugly sort of ache that burned like acid in his chest. He thought about the way Lance had smiled when he was with Allura; Shiro would have given anything, even every precious, fleeting moment between them, if it meant he could see Lance smile like that again.

"No one's looking," Shiro murmured into Lance's ear, tightening his arms around Lance just a little, "It's okay."

Lance gave a slight, mute nod, a quiet tremor wracking his slim frame as he pressed his face into the crook of Shiro's neck and shoulder, a choked, muffled sob escaping his lips. Shiro held him as they swayed in a slow, steady dance, and said nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took two years to rebuild the Castle of Lions.

Walking on to the bridge, the unsettling feeling of being somewhere new and yet achingly familiar at the same time washed over Shiro. Everything still looked untouched, pristine - from the polished shine of the floors to the gleaming, faceted surface of the diamond, all that had been left of the original castle, inset in a pillar near the center of the bridge. He closed his eyes, breathed in the smell of it - clean air, tinted with the strong scent of paint and new plastic.

Home.

It had seemed like such an abstract concept for so long. Even returning to Earth hadn’t felt like much of a homecoming to Shiro - after years gone, it didn't feel like the things Shiro left behind there mattered much anymore. Even his own body was a stranger to him, a copy he’d been downloaded into; he still didn’t feel completely at ease in this skin, as if he were continually reacclimating to being bound again in flesh and bone. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it, if he’d ever feel connected to a place again.

Maybe this place was a start.

Or, maybe, what he really wanted his connection to some _one_ , instead of somewhere.

Standing in front of the pillar, Shiro ran his hand along the crystalline surface of the diamond. Somehow, this piece of smooth crystal barely as big as he was held all of the collective matter of what had once been their singular foundation; it’s silvered surface reflected nothing of the thousands of years of memories trapped inside.

It must have been a heavy stone.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and as he turned he saw Lance walk in, an easy gait in his stride. Like Shiro, he was out of armor, dressed casually for a change, his face lighting up into a grin when he caught sight of Shiro.

“Come to check the place out, huh?” Lance said, “Looks pretty snazzy, right? Look, Hunk even installed cupholders on the new consoles. That was my idea, just so y’know.”

“It’s amazing,” Shiro said. “To be honest, I don’t think I realized how much I missed this place until now.”

“Yeah. Same, actually.” Lance’s expression softened, a distant tone coloring his voice. “You know, for so long, I just wanted to get back home. Then we got back to Earth, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to be with you guys again. Here. How’s that for indecisive?”

“No,” Shiro said, “I think I understand.”

Lance didn’t say anything; a strangely pensive expression crossed his face, lingering for a moment before he suddenly brightened and said,

“Hey. You know what we should do?”

“What’s that?”

Lance pulled his phone out, tapping at it until a slow, vaguely familiar melody started up; it took Shiro a moment to recognize it, but when Lance extended his hand to him, Shiro understood instantly.

“I should’ve got Pidge to install some Bluetooth speakers up here,” Lance said, pulling Shiro close, swaying into what was, by now, an old and familiar motion. “Knew I forgot something.”

“I’m sure she can work her magic,” Shiro said. “For now, this is okay.”

“Mm. Yeah. You remember the first time we did this? Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It kind of was for me. You know. Since I died and all.”

“Not funny, Shiro.”

“Sorry,” Shiro said, “But really, what’s the point of coming back from the dead if you can’t make a few resurrection jokes?”

“Okay, Space Jesus.” Lance rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t fade from his lips. “At least you’re a better dancer as a zombie.”

“Thanks to you,” Shiro said. “You’ve been a good partner.”

“I am gonna take credit for that, yeah.” Lance trailed off, an uncertain waver in his voice when he spoke again. “Hey, Shiro. What do you think’s gonna happen now? We’ve got the castle back, so there’s not really much reason for us to stay on Earth anymore. And even if the Galra aren’t a real threat anymore, there’s still a lot to do...”

“You’re right. The universe still needs Voltron. You can’t stay here forever.” That much was true - picking up the pieces of a crumbling ten-thousand year old empire was no easy feat. “But you can come back whenever you want. You know that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. More what I meant was...what are _you_ going to do?”

The question, boldly asked, gave Shiro pause. Of course he’d thought about it - what he’d do when Earth was no longer Voltron’s mooring. No matter how he felt, he’d had to give up his place on the team a long time ago.

“I...I don’t know yet. There’s still a lot of work to do here. I could go back to the Garrison. Sam’s been asking me about it since we got back. I could go with Matt, do some work with the Coalition forces…”

“I guess so. Yeah.” Lance frowned. “You _could_ do that.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“Well, it’s just. You know. I thought you might come with us.”

“Lance,” Shiro said, gently, “I’m not a paladin anymore. I haven’t been, for a while, now.”

“I know that. But you’re still part of the team. We all still want you to be here.” Lance paused. “ _I_ still want you to be here. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Shiro felt his breath catch somewhere in his lungs. If he didn’t ask, then he didn’t have to know that he’d read what Lance just said wrong; if he didn’t ask, then in that brief moment of uncertainty, he could have the ending he’d hoped for, but never expected. He didn’t _have_ to ask.

But he did.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lance said, raising his hands to cup Shiro’s face, “I don’t want to just be your dance partner.”

Inexplicably, the first thing Shiro noticed was the calloused feel of Lance’s fingers against his skin - his hands hadn’t always been like that, grown tough now from years of training and battle. Like Shiro, time and war wrought their indelible changes on Lance, too. But the heart underneath that coarse skin hadn’t changed, not for either of them, and Shiro realized that all this time, they’d just been caught in a long, slow dance - that all they'd done was sidestep with awkward grace the truth that had been steadily growing between them since that first meeting in the desert, that first moment they clasped hands.

Without a word Shiro moved forward, pressing his lips against Lance’s in a desperate kiss - it wasn’t pretty, that much was for sure, and there was one awful moment where Lance didn’t move and he was sure that he’d ruined everything but then - Lance twined his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, pressing flush against his body, lips parting in an eager way as he kissed him back.

“You know,” Lance said, when he leaned back, a little breathless, his cheeks flushed, “You’re not so great at that.”

“Sorry.” Shiro said, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Would you mind teaching me again?”

And that was it; the answer they’d both been looking for, the final step in the dance they’d started so long ago.

“I’d be glad to.”

**Author's Note:**

> In truth, I started this right after Season 4. For some reason, it took me this long to finish it. I just wanted to write something cute with Lance and Shiro learning to dance together and falling in love, so, here we are.
> 
> The title is from a track off the Wall-E soundtrack, because it remains my favorite Pixar movie. (And, yes, the scene in the second part of this fic is definitely a call back to the part of the movie that features this track!)


End file.
